Upping The Ante
by storyART
Summary: It wasn't what he'd call a heart-warming reunion, but when was it ever? He sighed and ran a bloodstained hand through his white mop of hair. "I'll have you know, I've had my fair share of crazy encounters this month, but this takes the cake"
1. Dinner Date

Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry or any of the characters. That would be Capcom.

* * *

Dante had to admit: this was a classy place.

Nothing less could have been expected of a swanky five-star joint like this, though. Scarlet carpets lined charcoal tiles, sweeping by every authentic rod iron table. Silver slates adorned the walls, which caught the dim light emitted from the crystal chandeliers and just the right angle. Every table had a golden candle-like lamp and a small rose bouquet. The waiter had bowed even called him "sir". This place certainly lived up to its reputation as highest class in town.

So, what was Dante, as we know and love him, doing in a suit with his hair (sloppily) pushed back, at the most pretentious restaurant at town?

His date was very pretty. Long platinum blonde hair framed her peach face, and fell down onto the front of her powder pink dress. Her wide, sea-green eyes were framed by silver artificial lashes, and a pair of pink-stained lips completed her face. She was the Barbie doll from every guy's wet dream.

This date had been in celebration of their two-month anniversary; the longest Dante had dated anyone in four years, give or take. He had to say, it was going perfectly. Thankfully, he had managed to get this reservation for today, though it had been a struggle. This place was booked until next year, and he had just barely lucked out with someone canceling their reservation last minuet. He was thankful he didn't get a call tonight.

Ugh. Work. He didn't want to think about that.

Demon hunting had become a common job nowadays. The demon activity had spiked to unconceivable heights in the past five years, and now, demon-hunting squads were becoming more popular. He didn't have much to worry about though. It was usually some rich schmo hiring a few skilled combatants and trying to say he had a demon-hunting firm. Lots of the time, he was called in to clean up their messes. In the end, he came out on top and eliminated the competition.

The spike in demonic activity was unsettling, though. A shudder ran up his spine as he remembered Temen-ni-gru. That was something he hoped he never had to deal with again. Still, It could be any number of things, and none of them good.

"Dante" the soft voice of his partner snapped him out of his reverie "Are you thinking about work again?'

"No" he sighed, and then quickly changed the subject. " You sure look pretty tonight"

'Awe, thank you, Dante!" she giggled, moving a piece of hair to reveal a sparkly pink earring. Damn, that girl loved pink. " A girlfriend of mine told me to use the Sakura lip-gloss tonight, and I was like 'no, that'll never work…"

Dante stifled a sigh as she began to babble about her endeavor to get ready tonight. His mind shifted back to the issues with work, though he still threw in the occasional grunt, to make it look as if he was still being attentive.

_"DAMOCLES!"_

Immediately, Dante's head whipped around, not to the source of the angry cry, but to the man it was addressing.

Leapold Zacharaia Damocles was another one of those "Rich company, moderate services" people. He's a forty or-so white man with an account number bigger than the number of demons Dante had slain in his entire life. This man was, without a doubt, a humongous rat. His business, the National Damocles Hunting Firm, wasn't fully operational yet, however, he'd already started eliminating other completion. He would hire other people trying to make their way into the demon hunting business, send 'em on a mission he knew they couldn't handle, and scare them so bad that they would drop the profession right there and run with their tail between their legs. Damocles had tried this scheme on him numerous times, and Dante just wound up taking his money. After a while, he figured Damocles had given up on him, but continued to widdle down other competition.

Dante knew, however, that someone had caught on, and he really didn't want to be that poor, greying bastard right now.

In the doorway to this 'suit-and-a-reservation' restaurant was a woman. She had reddish leather boots and a white blazer with some matching, very short shorts. At least he assumed.

She was, after all, covered from head to toe in blood.

It was splattered all up her body, hiding any abnormalities in her skin, am practically all of (once) white clothing. As his eye traveled up, his chest began to tighten. She had black hair, which looked muddled with blood. It was short, and the ends frayed out, giving it the look as if it had been violently chopped by a demon blade, or frustrated stylist. He saw a pair or orange-tinted glasses upon the bridge of her nose, not letting him see the color of her eyes.

Or colors.

He didn't dwindle there for long. He noticed a lengthy lock of ink black hair in her gloved hand. However, the hair was still attached to a green, horribly disfigured demon head.

The woman stalked towards the table where Damocles was sitting, and no one made a move to stop her. It honestly didn't surprise him. She looked as if anyone who got within a ten-foot radius of her was joining that head dangling from her hands. Viciously, she tossed the head onto his table, the blood leaving dark stains on the tablecloth. That wasn't the only stain to be made tonight, as he heard several people lose their hor'derves on the carpet.

"Next time you try pull that little stunt," she warned, underlying tones of anger lacing her voice "Do your research. Will you?"

With that, the blood-soaked woman was in the wind, gone as quickly as she had come.

Dante turned to his date, who had an aghast look of horror on her pretty features. He decided then was a good time to get the bill.

After seeing his home safely, he decided it was time to return to his home/ Workplace. As he pulled up to the front of the building, he decided the first thing her needed was a nice long nap to clear his head.

After all, he was convinced that he had just seen a different kind of demon. One from his past.


	2. Ghosts from the Past

Disclaimer: still don't own Devil May Cry

"How was your date?"

The blonde demoness, perched idly on the Son of Sparda's desk, barely spared him a glance as he staggered in.

"Fantastic" His exasperated tone caused her eyebrow to quirk.

"Oh? Are you and what's-her-pickle still together" Dante ran a hand through his white mop of hair and plopped down onto the couch

"Tiffany… I think." Trish chuckled at that. Two months of seeing her, and the ice-eyed half demon still had a tendency to forget his girlfriend's name "And it started out great, really, but…"

"Buuuuuuuuut?" The blonde inquired playfully.

"Damocles was there"

"Don't change the subject"

"I'm not. He's been up to his old tricks, you know?" Trish nodded. She knew all too well the weasel ways of that man. "Well, someone finally caught on"

"Good" the demoness huffed. "It's about time"

"Yeah. Showed up in the middle of dinner with the severed head of some demon and dropped it right in his caviar."

That caught her. Now fully intrigued, Trish swiveled her body and leaned towards Dante, eager to hear his recounting of the tale. If he wasn't so grave, he would've basked in the attention. "Didn't help that she was head to toe in blood. The lady beside him lost her Crème Brûlée to his Jimmy Chu's."

Trish's laughter echoed out into the empty space of Devil May Cry.

"I'm surprised you know what those are" she tittered.

"Hey, I may live like a hobo, but I doesn't mean I don't have class"

Trish sat back, leaning nonchalantly on one arm, left leg swinging over to rest on top of her right. Dante continued.

"My date couldn't really stomach the rest of her dish after that. I picked up the bill, brought her home, and here we are."

Upon finishing his story, Dante collapsed completely into the couch, letting his head rest on the top of the cushions. Achingly, he placed his hands on his forehead, feeling the cool sweat on his calloused palms.

"Trish…?" He started, with a slight tremor in his voice.

"Hmmm?" She replied, newly occupied with her manicure, smirk still in tact.

"I think I saw 'her'"

Despite freezing like an ice sculpture, her smirk melted away.

The demoness's eyes widened to saucers, her nails suddenly insignificant. Ever muscle in her body when ridged.

"You mean-"

"Yeah, I mean" he cut her off. He removed his hands, letting them drop to his lap. He sighed, a fruitless effort to dissipated the tightness constricting his chest.

"Lady"

All the air was suddenly swept from the room.

"You're positive it was her?"

"It couldn't be anyone else"

The blonde demoness looked deeply into her companion's eyes, as of she was trying wrack his brain and find Lady hidden deep in his mind.

"Oh my god, you're not kidding"

Dante scoffed at that. As if he'd lie about this. Over the past couple years, the topic of Lady had become very serious one.

"It's been 4 years since I walked through that portal, Trish. Why now?"

The blonde demoness looked away, lost in thought

"Damocles" she concluded. "He must of given her a job, right? So she came to collect"

"And we weren't part of the equation, were we" the half demon scowled.

"It makes the most sense" she walked over the couch and sat next to Dante, placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. "I highly doubt after this long, she had a sudden inkling to come home. Lady's not like that"

Grunting, the white-haired boy leaned forward, averting his eyes to the floor. Trish added softly "maybe it's best we forget about this"

"Yeah, maybe" he lamented. Suddenly, he rocketed to his feet and stalked out of the room, a storm cloud trailing behind him.

Once he arrived in his bedroom, he slammed the door and began to wrestle out of his suit top (which he forgot he was still wearing) and his other clothes until he was left in his boxer shorts. He fell like a chopped tree onto his bed, breathing out a sigh of exhaustion. Staring up at the darkness of the ceiling, he tried to calm his frazzled nerves enough to fall asleep. It was to no avail, as the starky demon huntress kept invading his thoughts. Honestly, he didn't know why he cared so much. Lady had virtually disappeared from his life. It was like she didn't even exist anywhere else but his mind. His teeth would grind because he hadn't given her a second thought in so long, but it took one little mishap to throw his entire mind into a downward spiral.

Deep down he knew Trish was right. Lady had a resolve of steel. Once she was gone, she wasn't coming back. This only deepened his frustration, and he sucked in a shaky breath. He knew he had let it go, lest he drive himself insane. There was no point finding what didn't want to be found.

Dante's thoughts trailed slowly as he finally found sleep


	3. Day and Night

Needless to say, Lady wasn't very chipper at the moment.

Ruining Dinner for some rich aristocrat was only a small pleasure, and even that didn't last long. It was a four-hour drive to Fortuna and a wickedly cold night. Not to mention, she rode her bike to the city. Also, she had risen with the sun to take this job, fought an endless horde of Scarecrows, controlled by a snot-green Sméagol with a punk rock hairdo (she enjoyed liberating his head from his shoulders), and was now wearing demon blood like it was a new trend.

This was going to be a long ride home.

Releasing a sigh, she heaved a weary leg over her bike. As she went to cue up the engine, a buzz in her pocket startled her. Removing a blood soaked glove, she quickly recovered her phone from her pocket and answered.

"Hey, Lady"

"Kyrie? What are you still doing up?"

The voice on the receiver giggled in response. "It's only half past ten! Though that's exactly why I called. You're still in the city, right?"

Lady raised an eyebrow "Yeah, why?"

"It's late, cold and a long drive to Fortuna. You'd get here at two in the morning with hypothermia. I've booked a room at a hotel called the "Winston". Nero and I are coming tomorrow, but it's booked for tonight as well. It's booked under my name. I think you should stay there tonight."

If Kyrie was here right now, Lady was pretty sure she would have kissed her.

"Kyrie, you continue to save my life"

"Well, someone has to make sure you're taken care of. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, thanks again, night"

With the phone hung up, Lady replaced her phone in her pocket and started her engine. She tore down the slick streets, light from street lamps flicking by her like shooting stars. It wasn't a long drive to the hotel, but she wasn't exactly driving the speed limit.

When she arrived, there was a valet standing up front. He looked like soiled his pants when he saw Lady. She was about to snap and ask what the hell his problem was, but then she realized.

She was still covered in blood.

Stifling a sigh, she tossed him her bike keys.

"Not a scratch, bellboy" she warned. He nodded and scampered away. Checking in was another adventure. The front desk attendee had a bad case of the shivers, and it wasn't because he was cold. When she finally arrived at her suite (yes, suite. Kyrie knew how to party) the first thing she did was peel her bloody clothes from her skin, without stopping.

The room itself was huge. The floor was glossy white tile, until it reached a dip in the floor where three luxury couches were placed. The flooring there was a white shag carpet. There were large red oak doors, leading into the master bedroom, and there was a smaller bedroom across the floor to the left. To the right was a minibar and a kitchen area. The entire back wall was windows. Every other wall was white, but golden in the dim light of numerous small chandeliers. Kyrie outdid herself

There was a trail of soiled garments on the way to the bathroom. She stripped down completely and without hesitation, started the water for a shower. It felt good to watch the red pour out of her hair. She scrubbed vigorously, determined to clean every last drop off her scalp. Once she was satisfied, she tossed her bloody clothes into the bathtub, and climbed into the master bed. Lady had little time to think before sleep took her.

...

She was roused awake by a loud rapping at her door.

Silently, she pulled on a white bathrobe, and peered her russet eye out the peephole. There waited a bright Kyrie, and a not-so-bright Nero. She opened the door.

"Morning, Kyrie, morning Sunshine."

Kyrie returned the greeting and scurried in with her suitcase, moving deeper in to explore the room. Nero dropped his case right by the mini bar, and proceeded to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

"So, what are you two love birds doing here?" Lady inquired, sitting on a barstool.

"Kyrie decided that the library at Fourtuna wasn't cuttin' it anymore. Decided, while you were here, to come study." He called back to her, finishing the brewing process. He walked over to the mini bar, placing his mug on the surface. He the walked around to his suite case, unzipping it. Lady peered over his shoulder as he rifled through and pulled out a bottle. Unscrewing the cap, he stood back up and began to pour Baileys into his coffee.

"Isn't it a little earlier for that?" Lady teased. Nero scoffed.

"Believe me, I need something a lot stronger than coffee to keep me up this morning." As he began to screw the cap back on, His eyes flickered up at Lady. "You got anything on under that?"

"Nope"

Nero shook his head and unscrewed the cap, beginning to pour once more.

If it wasn't for Kyrie, Lady was pretty sure she would be dead right now.

The young girl had brought her a change of clothes too. There was a pair of black pants and a black shirt with sleeves that came down to her Elbows. Over top, Lady had thrown on a white Victorian-style coat. Her boots were easy enough to wash off. The bloodstained blazer was going to need some serious dry-cleaning. She slid her orange-tinted sunglasses on the bridge of her nose and subconsciously lifted her hand to feel for her red pendant around her neck. After pulling her gloves on, she followed her companions out of the building.

Kyrie had let her hair out of her ponytail, leaving it to cascade down to her shoulders. She wore a brown jacket, unzipped to show her white blouse buttoned neatly underneath. Her legs bore black leggings and bronze boots.

Nero still had his trademark denim jacket with the order symbol, in faded red, present on the sleeve. Despite him growing over the years, it still fit him like a glove. His hair was still a shaggy mess.

The trio walked down the steps of the hotel to busy streets. They were in a nicer part of town. The streets seemed pretty safe here. Boutiques and shops lined the streets, and there was a cafe at every corner. Kyrie was here to research, so no doubt she headed towards a library.

The library they chose was only the grandest in town. It had a high ceiling, and stained glass windows on the walls. The floor was elegant marble tiling. Each bookshelf was touching to roof and filled to the brim with books. There were long reading tabled running alongside the fronts of the shelves. It really looked like a cathedral, but stuffed with books.

"This place! I've wanted to study here for ages!" Kyrie squealed quietly. She was lost in the towers of books before either Lady or Nero could bat an eye.

"She's as hyped as ever." Lady chuckled.

"Yeah, she's always studying. Ever since the order collapsed…" Nero trailed off. Lady knew that that time was touchy for the both of them. Her own memories of that time weren't that pleasant either. She vaguely remembered sending Dante and Trish off, before resuming the day job. She was well aware she underpaid the two for the job, but her finance situation wasn't the greatest either. As if she would've admitted that to them though. She was laughing now, though. That rich fool was her biggest paycheck in years. She was weary of him from the start, so demanded a higher pay, thinking he'd back off. To her surprise, He kept raising the bill until she said she would take it, and she was also paid up front. The minute she walked into the place she was supposed to clear, though, she knew this was a setup. She had quite the ride taking all of the demons down. She has a plethora of cuts and bruises, and maybe even a new addition to her every-growing scar collection.

"Yo, I think I'm going to find Kyrie. You good by yourself?" Nero's voice snapped her back to reality.

"I'm fine, go ahead"

Lady didn't really know where to go, so she wandered. She paced, looking for something to catch her multi-colored eyes. She paused in font of a book, and removed her sunglasses to better read the title.

"Legends of Sparda"

A chill ran down her spine. She removed the book from the shelf and began to scan the pages.

She knew she would regret this later. Just the mention of Sparda's name took her back. In all honesty, she loathed returning to this city. She knew that deeper into the city lurked Devil May Cry. Also, She was well aware that Dante had been back for close to four years, despite the two he was initially gone for.

She also understood that she didn't bother to go see him, or keep in contact with anyone close to him over the past six years.

It was a mystery to her why she didn't want to return. Part of here knew that it was too late, other part says she was cowardly. Lady knew both to be true.

Her reverie was once again broken by motion, caught in her peripheral vision. She glanced over and caught sight of tanned skin and red hair. It was recognition at first sight.

Lucia.

The other woman met her eyes, seemingly at a loss for words. They had met once before, at Devil May Cry. This was the woman that had let them know that Dante hadn't returned like he should've. Lady was the first to break eye contact. Quickening her pace, she practically glided over to Kyrie and Nero.

"Good timing, we were just about to leave" Nero piped in "let me tell you, I'm going to be glad to be out of this musty-smelling place of books"

Lady let out a chuckle, and left the book on a table as they walked out of the library.

She knew better that to dig up old graves.


End file.
